Page 108 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

My head had been far too fuzzy to pay attention to the details.

Just like now—fuzzy, out of it, dazed as I stared up at the sky and let Alex take the lead.

Alex weaved us through the cabins, and then up a hill at the north end of the camp site. I wheezed as we climbed, calves burning, mind a thousand miles away. Alex simply chuckled, finding joy in my pain like the little shit he was.He didn’t offer any explanation for our impromptu midnight trek through the dark—other than a wink, and then his open hand after he’d dumped his plunder once we’d reached the top of the hill.

I didn’t take the offered hand.

I didn’t knowhowto.

I didn’t know how to deal withanyof this.

Away from the party, with the music and frivolity far enough it was barely an echo, I was in even more uncharted territory. The stars were so very bright above us, clearer now that we were away from the fire. We’d climbed high enough that even the trees couldn’t block them from sight.

“You just keep standing there looking pretty. I’ll get everything all set up,” Alex teased, not offended that I’d inadvertently ignored him.

“Sure,” I didn’t look at him, still drinking in the stars. They reallywerebeautiful. I’d missed nights like this. New York’s skyline was too polluted to truly see them even when the weather was clear.

“Get what set up?” I questioned belatedly.

Alex didn’t reply.

He continued to rustle around, grunted, and swore a few times. A few minutes later, when he’d gone quiet, his fingers brushed against my wrist, snagging my attention.

“Your Majesty,” Alex said, “your feast awaits.” Kneeling in front of me, Alex’s head was tilted back. He looked at me the same way I’d just been staring at the stars. Like I was something worth admiring.

Realistically, I should’ve seen this coming.

Alex James was a lot of things, but subtle wasn’t one of them.

And he’d made it clear that if I accepted his proposal he was going to “spoil” me. I just…hadn’t expected it to be so soon—or…so…cute?

“You…made us a picnic.” I was honestly flummoxed. The picnic he’d set up was interesting to say the least. Alex knee-walked to the side so he could gesture at his hard work with a flourish. “Does it please, His Majesty?”

Jesus he was so fucking cheesy.

“Dork,” I snorted.

The blanket was a patchwork monstrosity, threadbare, and as old as I was. The snacks piled on top of it consisted of an eclectic mix of items—mostly sugary—with the exception of a block of cheese Alex had charmed away from his cousins.

Sitting front and center, the package of cookies that Alex had scavenged from my mom’s stash had been torn open. Beside the cookies, the wine bottle—pink moscato—had accidentally tipped to the side on the grass. Luckily for us it remained capped. Capped and not corked. Our only saving grace as even Alex, with all his foraging skills, would not have been able to score a bottle opener from the crowd of half-drunk adults.

Fuck.

My eyes burned.

“I…” I didn’t know what to say.

He was joking in an attempt to make me laugh, or smile or…something. But I had the strangest,horribleurge to cry instead. My throat went tight. My numb hands were so very lonely without him holding them. I was supposed to be smiling. To be teasing him back—but instead…I simply…stared.

Stared and stared and stared.

Stared at his clumsy picnic—at this sweet, unfamiliar gesture—and did my best not to fall apart. My earlier calm was gone, drowned by loss and loneliness and gratitude all at once. I squeezed my arms tightly around my body to keep myself from falling apart.

Thirty-three years of my life had taught me to expect disappointment. That I wasn’t worth the effort.Thiswas effort. Effort to please me. To…I don’t know—clichely get me to like him more? Romantic and clumsy, but…perfect all the same.

Alex had said it wasn’t fake. That this was real. Just temporary.

And I took that to heart, as I beheld the most lovely, heart-achingly romanticgesture I’d ever received.

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